


a flicker of hope

by tangerine_skye



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I honestly don't know how else to tag this??, M/M, Spoilers, Suffering Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9658046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerine_skye/pseuds/tangerine_skye
Summary: What Magnus realises is this; he is dying.-my attempt at writing something for That Scene from episode 56





	

‘Bad luck’.

These are the last words Magnus hears before a horrible noise rings throughout the room. It echoes through his very core and vibrates in his bones. It’s the sound of a bell, but none like Magnus has ever heard before. The way it resonates inside him is unnatural, synchronising the beat of his heart with deep waves of reverberating sound.

Then suddenly, Magnus is jerked backwards. It’s as though someone has cast a fishing line and the hook has caught inside his stomach, right near his navel, and they are now tugging it back, trying to free it from where it has become trapped inside of him. They tug and pull and Magnus spasms, feeling like he is being ripped apart from the inside. His back bends and his neck snaps in an unnatural position. A breath is torn from his lungs and he gasps, every nerve in his body numb from shock.

The sheer terror on his friend's faces as he falters and falls is something that he will remember for many years to come.

And then the sensation ceases.

He blinks, and everything is different. Unease trails cold fingers down his spine as he turns to face what he recognises as his own body standing before him. The wide shoulders, the auburn hair - that’s him, standing there with the others, talking, moving, reacting. It’s impossible to describe how it feels to watch yourself through an objective lens. The sensation is bizarre and unnerving and terrifying all bundled up in an explosion of emotion that causes you to reel with disorientation. To view your entire self, parts of your body that you may rarely see - the soft fuzz that crawls down the nape of your neck, the bruising on the bend of your elbow, the curve of your nose in an entirely new position – its surreal. And yet here Magnus stands, existing in a space beyond his reality, watching his body and knowing that whatever it is – that _thing_ – it is certainly not him.

His vision changes and for a moment, he thinks that he is dying. The confusion comes first. The feeling is overwhelming, swallowing him and constricting him in its embrace. He opens his mouth, choking a silent sound that is lost before it leaves his lips. Regret chases it swiftly and swoops on him like an eagle fixating on its prey. There are so many things unfinished. So many things unsaid. It tugs his heart with a painful lurch.

But he realises that his vision is not fading, nor is it darkening. Instead, the colours of the world he has abandoned are seeping into dull tones of washed grey, a filter passed over his eyes forcing him to view the world through a monochrome lens. Everything shifts and is subdued.

He recognises where he is now; the ethereal plane.

Magnus tries to shout out to the others but no sound falls from his lips. Frustration expresses itself in balled hands, fingernails digging into the skin of his palms. It does not hurt him, not in the same way that it would in the material plane, but the sensation is the same. He can feel the existence of the red welts arising from crescent moon impressions in his skin, he acknowledges the pressure on his skin and the dull pain, but it doesn’t cause him real hurt. It is a phantom of reality and exists through the memory of sensation, nothing more.

As he looks around he begins to notice small white figures, forms of unassuming shapes that shield themselves with the bodies of the manikins. A few cling to the walls and the ceiling of the room, their heads turned in his direction. When his gaze wanders over them, they dash away, disappearing out of sight.

It is then that he realises with a rising sense of dread, that he is slowly being pulled towards the other side of the room. He turns to see a splinter in the plane, a narrow crack that snakes in a jagged motion all sharp corners and straight lines. Through it seeps a light, just bright enough to illuminate that what is hidden inside its depths appears to belong to another world. The image is familiar, and Magnus recognises it almost immediately. He realises, with a sick jolt in his stomach, that it is a tear in the fabric of space. He realises that this is a rift leading to the astral plane.

What Magnus realises is this; he is dying.

With that realisation, the confusion and the regret from before return in a triumphant orchestral reprisal of panic that drums his heart and sends his mind reeling in terror because he is drifting towards the tear with no anchor to bring him back.

He looks towards Merle and Taako and scrabbles vainly in the air, his neck straining with the effort he is exerting to move in a direction of his own choosing. He watches himself – no, his body – continue to talk. And then Magnus sees a smile break across the face of his body and rage surges through him alongside the panic, twisting his gut as his expression contorts and his teeth grit to swallow a scream of anger.   

They can’t do this, he won’t let them.

And yet he continues to be pulled backwards, dragged towards the tear that yawns expectantly, hungry for the spirit that it will soon devour. It’s terrifies him in an entirely new way that Magnus had never quite experienced. It’s not death that scares him in this moment, but the experience of being helpless. He is trapped and alone and in a position where his strength and power is useless. All he can do is watch his friends drift further away from him as he struggles, helpless and weak against a monster that he cannot battle.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, tremors of fear racking through his body.

The tear opening to the astral plane is nearing now, and the power emanating from it is enormous. His arms are outstretched, fingers reaching vainly, grasping for purchase where nothing exists for him to hold. His legs are being pulled in first, tugged down with a force so strong he cannot bend his knees. It doesn’t stop him trying though, but when he manages to move his leg in a minute direction away from the tear, his leg snaps back almost immediately. He gasps and silently pleads, praying to gods he doesn’t believe in. He is too close now, the light that radiates from the tear is blinding and the terror crushes him. He closes his eyes, wills away the tumult of emotions threatening to rip him apart, and lets go.

His heart beat slows. A soft exhale of resignation. A lone tear wells up and sneaks past his eyelid, trailing a shaky trail down his cheek.

And then, a touch.

His hand, which continues to reach out before him, makes contact with another. He cannot feel yet somehow he recognises, undoubtedly, that the hand that clasps his own is warm and comforting and Magnus revels in it, allowing a flicker of hope to burn in his chest.

Eyes fly open and its Taako before him, all wild hair and a self-assured smirk. He doesn’t fail to notice the worry that creases in the turn of his eyebrows and knots in wrinkles across his forehead, unable to be supressed. Magnus wants to smooth the creases away with a press of his fingers, he wants to caress his skin with the edge of his thumbs to remove the fear expressed on his face. Taako should not be feeling this fear for him. Magnus should be the one doing the protecting, he should be the one who saves the others.

But here is Taako to save him, and _oh, Taako._

Taako grasps his hand and holds on tight, small fingers curling around his large palm with a ferocity that Magnus could not have expected from someone smaller than himself. Taako reaches over with his second hand and clenches Magnus’ hand between both of his own, pulling him forward so that they’re floating closer together. He can see the fire that burns in his eyes, wild and determined, the dust of freckles across his cheeks, a stray hair caught in the fan of his eyelashes. Taako leans forward, his forehead resting against Magnus’ own.

_I’ve got you._

He exhales, but the words do not fall from his lips. Magnus hears it resonate inside his mind, strong and sure. They’re so close, and Magnus clings to Taako desperately. He never wants to let him go.

Taako flashes him a grin and its pure and blinding and beautiful.

_You cool, kemosabe? We gotta go. Asap._

A brief flicker of concern passes over his eyes as Taako reaches over and wipes that stray tear from Magnus’ cheek with a flick of his thumb. Magnus nods. He can’t find the words to thank him. He recognises with a sudden clarity, exactly how much Taako has risked for him in this moment and he is stunned into silence.

Taako grips Magnus’ hand tighter and begins to pull them both backwards, away from the tear. It takes a great deal of strength, Magnus can see that. He can feel it too, in the tremor of Taako’s arms as he hauls them both away.

As they move away from the tear, Magnus turns to look back into it. Being so close, he can see the world inside of it much clearer now. Inside lays an ocean, the waves turbulent as they crash against each other, foaming and frothing and angry. The sea is covered by an inky blackness, as though a disease has swept across it, choking the water beneath a tar like substance. As he watches, a hand is suddenly thrust upwards out of the dark water. The fingers wriggle for a moment and then return to the ocean, seeming to find purchase before a body breaks the surface. He recognises it as Kravitz, his eyes wide and face dripping with the dark mass that suffocates the waves. As he struggles to pull himself upright and out of the water, the darkness sucks him back down and he disappears once again, below the surface.

 It's something that he cannot comprehend, not in this moment. He files it away for later contemplation. Yet the scene leaves him riddled with an anxious energy he cannot quell.

As they fly back to the centre of the room, Magnus can still feel the tug of the rift as it attempts to drag them both back into its depths. The fear is still there, but it is lessened by the hope held tight in the grip between their hands. Taako looks at him and smiles again, softer this time. It’s a rare expression to see on his face, and Magnus etches it into a memory. He returns the smile, thankful, grateful.

 _I love you,_ is what he thinks, and the words hover in the space between them.

It’s not a revelation so much as an admittance. What surprises him most about the words, is how easily he thinks them. He has been given a gift in this moment, a chance to speak that which he had kept unspoken.

Taako’s lips twitch, and he cocks his head towards Magnus.

_I know._

The fingers around his hand squeeze tighter and then loosen - a reassurance. It’s fine, the touch says, I understand. I feel it too. Taako’s gaze falls away, looking out towards where Merle stands outside.

Its then that Merle turns around. Time seems to slow for a moment, as an enormous vision of his soul wood arm punches through into the ethereal plane, the wooden fingers stretching forward. They latch onto Taako, taking Magnus with him as it drags them forward and with a snap, the arm jerks backwards, bringing them out of the ethereal plane.

 

The last thing Magnus sees before he is thrown back into the material plane, is the expression of victory on Taako’s face that is pure, unadulterated joy, and it is the most incredible thing he has ever seen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been itching to write something for these two, but I haven't written in years so, apologies? thanks boys for breaking me out of a writers block. sidenote: did I make a star wars reference? yes. do I understand how the ethereal plane works? no. also, i drew the scene before I wrote this to go alongside it so pls enjoy http://wufantastiic.tumblr.com/post/157047795650


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